The Medici Conspiracy

by Peter Watson

  Nor does he explain why it was easier to trade in Switzerland through a gallery opened in Geneva, if he did not intend to trade in archaeological objects coming from thefts and clandestine digs carried out in Italy.

  The purchase of archaeological material just excavated in Italy is documented by dozens and dozens of Polaroids and “scandalous” photographs which frequently show the actual stages of the digs . . . we point out that two chequered urns, clearly freshly excavated, were photographed in Medici’s house in Santa Marinella. . . . The collection of buccheri and Villanovan objects destined to be donated to the state clashes with the fact that Medici has never donated these objects, neither before nor after their seizure, and that Medici sold . . . large quantities both of buccheri as well as Villanovan objects at auctions. Whilst the fact remains that Medici has in no way documented where he purchases these goods, his [declared] wish to collect them so as to donate them to the State is the umpteenth [“ennesima”] shameless lie.

  Muntoni was not taken in by Medici’s claim that the Polaroids concerned objects shown to him so as to ascertain their authenticity, or value, or sent to him for restoration. The judge pointed out that among the vast documentation there was not a single piece of paper or letter from a prospective client requesting such assistance, expertise, or advice.

  No invoice has ever been made out by Medici for evaluation or restoration, yet one notices the meticulous way in which the documentation is kept with regard to his activity, from which one learns that Medici made out invoices only to the Aboutaams, through whom he used to sell his own archaeological objects. What’s more, the Polaroids and photographs were not found, with the exception of very few cases, loose [or singly], but on the contrary, [they were found] well archived in specific albums which document the arrival of the goods, their condition, their initial collocation [arrangement], their temporary importation into Switzerland. . . . Medici evidently has forgotten that the catalogues titled “Oggetti Passati” [passed objects] contain Polaroids and photos of objects on which is marked the destination: V.CRI, V.SOTH, P.G.M., COLL, [“v.” stands for venduto, or sold]—that is, sold through Christo Michaelides, always indicated as CRI or CR, through Bob Hecht, always indicated as BO, through Sotheby’s, and sold to the Paul Getty Museum, or part of the Medici “collection.”

  In other words, Medici’s main activity was selling, not collecting.

  Muntoni himself examined the documentation that had been seized and concluded that Medici had made meticulous and “absolutely exact” records of the goods he had sold and the prices they had achieved.

  It is therefore objectively proven beyond doubt that the photographic archive and the Polaroids in particular only depict objects bought and traded by Medici, who for this reason had archived the photographic documents in specific catalogues, divided into kinds of objects, their destinations.... The sensational falsity of Medici’s statements on this point shows how well aware he is of the fact that there can be no licit justification to explain his having kept the photographic archive and he preferred denying even the evidence, in the hope perhaps that the documents seized had not been examined. In fact, it is precisely anger against those who have shown careful and intelligent examination of the seized documents, like Maurizio Pellegrini of the Southern Etruria Superintendency, that must have made Medici throw accusations as false as they are gratuitous.

  To summarize the judge’s 659-page verdict, Muntoni didn’t accept Medici’s arguments on any level. He thought Medici had lied about his relationships with Robert Hecht, Marion True, and Christian Boursaud. How could Medici have bought the Hydra Gallery from Boursaud when the two men had fought a court battle in Switzerland in 1985 over ownership of the gallery?

  He found Cottier-Angeli to be part of the cordata and found that only 2–3 percent of the goods seized were of non-Italian origin. (The report of the three archaeological experts confirmed this.) He did not agree with Medici that the goods the dealer sold at Sotheby’s were minor artifacts. And he did not accept for a moment that Medici was an expert. On the contrary, Muntoni noted that Medici far more often turned to others for expertise. He added: “Some doubts concerning Medici’s capacity to recognize an authentic object—and not only to establish its period and the maestri to whom it is attributable—necessarily occur, considering the number of fakes found in his possession, some of which [were] bought at public auction—unless one wishes to maintain that Medici was such a dishonest dealer as to offer fakes which he had deliberately obtained.”

  Muntoni’s judgment was withering.

  He also had various comments and conclusions about the testimony of others in the case.

  On Robert Hecht: Muntoni concluded that Hecht was “one of the founders of the conspiracy that was the subject of this trial,” that he is “the soul and director (anima e regista) of almost all the operations.”

  The extraordinary and adventurous human story of Hecht is well recounted in the memorandum which he himself wrote . . . a document in which his ventures are never exalted, in fact we must perhaps think that they contain some disinterested omissions so as to avoid problems for his family after his death. We are obviously referring to the first draft of the memorandum and not to the sweetened [“edulcorata”] version, also found in his house, which contains blatant [“evidenti”] corrections aimed at avoiding possible demands for reimbursement from Museums which had, at very expensive prices, purchased objects such as the Euphronios krater, about which Hecht in the first draft tells the true story—also reconstructible through other sources of evidence . . . we deduce that Hecht, together with Medici and Bürki and individuals to be identified, founded the criminal conspiracy [“associazione per delinquere”] between the end of the sixties and the very early seventies, the aim of which was to intercept all the important material clandestinely excavated in Etruria and most of that excavated in Puglia, thanks to a tight network [“fitta rete”] of relationships that Hecht personally had with individuals in positions of responsibility in many museums....

  On Danilo Zicchi: The judge found that all the addresses and names mentioned by Zicchi in relation to the organigram were confirmed by later investigation.

  On Fritz Bürki: The judge concluded that Bürki had lied “shamelessly” about events concerning the Tripod, “adapting his version to that invented by Hecht and Rosen” (Jonathan Rosen, Hecht’s partner in Atlantis Antiquities in New York). But the judge went on to “underline” the fact that Bürki had acknowledged that the archaeological objects submitted to him came from illicit digs carried out in Italy and that he was “absolutely aware of it.” In regard to the Tripod, the judge concluded that Bürki had substituted Medici’s name with that of Bruno.

  On Harry Bürki: The judge noted, in particular and inter alia, that Harry Bürki admitted having seen the photographs of the frescoes taken in Pompeii by the tombaroli, that he could not explain the presence of a bag dirty with soil and which had a double [fake] bottom. He concluded:Only when faced with the undeniable evidence of the proof, the two Bürkis, father and son, admitted [to] having acted as [a] “front” for Robert Hecht in the sale of objects to the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. Instead they continued to deny knowing Medici even when faced with the evidence. For them, too, therefore, dealings with him were not to be spoken of and were considered compromising: [a] denial which is in contrast with the presence of their respective names and addresses in the agendas [address books] of Bürki and Medici, [in contrast] with the restoration work done by Bürki on innumerable archaeological objects then sold by Medici, [in contrast] with the unmistakable contents of the photos seized from Medici which show objects photographed in Bürki’s premises as was challenged, and [in contrast] with an association which continued for years. Proud of being citizens of a “neutral” country with respect to the one in which the clandestine digs had taken place, they shamelessly admitted that the objects they restored came from clandestine digs in Italy and even admitted having seen the photographs of the dig of the Pompe
ii frescoes.

  On Pietro Casasanta: From his evidence the judge found it confirmed that there were competitive groups of cordate, trying to send the best objects out of Italy, and that these groups were led respectively by Nino Savoca, Gianfranco Becchina, and Medici; that “absolutely everybody in the milieu of the traffickers in archaeological material knew that Giacomo Medici was the real ‘boss’ who managed to intercept almost all the material excavated in Etruria,” that it was well known that Hecht and Medici were partners since the sixties, that the cordate reported their rivals to the authorities whenever their interests were threatened, that Medici and Becchina had become billionaires (in Italian lire) “from nothing,” that archaeological material was smuggled out of Italy thanks to “complacent shippers,” that Mario Bruno was a rival of Medici’s and that relations between them were very bad. Medici, concluded Muntoni, was with Hecht the “principal collector” in Italy of archaeological material coming from clandestine digs carried out in Southern Etruria and Puglia.

  On Robin Symes: The judge found that Symes initially lied, trying to support Medici’s “line of defense,” but when faced with the Polaroid photographs, “Symes ended up by admitting some facts” and indicated as coming from Medici objects dealt with through Hecht and Fleischman.

  On Wolf Dieter Heilmeyer: The evidence from Berlin, Muntoni concluded, confirmed the existence of the “criminal sodality,” or cordata, between Hecht, Medici, and Symes, and that the Leon-Chamay-Cottier version of events was “pure fantasy,” that the vases were restored “under Medici’s watchful eye.”

  On Marion True: The judge thought that she had covered up her own responsibilities in these matters but had confirmed the cordata: Hecht-Bürki-Medici-Symes, and of several triangulations in connection with von Bothmer and Robert Guy, and in connection with the Hunt and Tempelsman Collections and with the Getty Museum.

  Given all this, given all these uncompromising and definitive statements from Judge Muntoni and all his pithy comments and asides, showing that he had not been taken in for a moment, it came as no surprise that at the end of a massive 659-page judgment, delivered on May 12, 2005, he found Giacomo Medici guilty of the following charges: illegal export (smuggling), receiving stolen goods, and, most seriously, conspiracy. For these offenses, Muntoni sentenced Medici to ten years in prison (equivalent to fifteen years, had he not chosen the rito abbreviato), ordered the forfeiture of nearly all the antiquities in his possession, fined him 16,000 Euros, plus 10 million Euros as restitution of damages to the Ministry of Culture, towards payment of which his villa at Santa Marinella (the large one, with the G-shaped window, not the seaside one) and his Maserati were seized, plus another 16,000 Euros as reimbursement of legal expenses for the Civil Plaintiff (the Ministry). Medici’s passport was impounded, together with other travel documents, and he was forbidden to leave the country. The judge also announced a list of Medici’s objects that were to be confiscated and returned to Italy. These included objects that he was acquitted of smuggling but were seized to help offset the 10 million euros ($12 million) damages.

  This was by far the heaviest punishment ever handed out in Italy to someone involved in the clandestine trade of illicit antiquities trading. As he was entitled, under the Italian system, Medici appealed. This appeal had not been heard as this book went to press.

  20

  TRADING WITH JAPAN, TRIALS IN ROME

  THE YEAR 2007, like 2006, represents the high point of Conforti’s and Ferri’s achievement. Marion True and Robert Hecht are on trial in Rome, and all the world is watching. Medici’s appeal will be heard and a definitive verdict obtained. But that is not all. In parallel with these events, Prosecutor Ferri is preparing to initiate proceedings against the central figure in the rival cordata—Gianfranco Becchina. And so, after ten long years since the theft at Melfi, since Operation Geryon, since the discovery of the organigram, the three figures at the top of that extraordinary piece of paper—Robert Hecht, Giacomo Medici, and Gianfranco Becchina—are all facing the music.

  The trial of Marion True and Robert Hecht began on Wednesday, November 16, 2005, and is expected to last for at least two years—owing to the practice in Italy of limiting court appearances to one or two days a month.

  As the trial date approached, stories began to leak out from the Getty Museum itself that were unlikely to have been helpful to Marion True. Most of these leaks came out via the Los Angeles Times, where two reporters—Jason Felch and Ralph Frammolino—had been working on the turbulence at the Getty since the spring. Felch had earlier worked on money laundering and political corruption, and Frammolino had exposed a scam at the L.A. County Morgue (involving the removal and sale of eye tissue from cadavers). The reporters began by looking at the troubled tenure of Getty CEO Barry Munitz, who was later forced to resign. In the course of their investigations, they were leaked more than a thousand pages of internal Getty documents that provided the basis for several stories over the following weeks and months. As a Getty spokesperson bluntly noted, these documents had been stolen. The thrust of the leaked documents fell into three categories. In the first place, they showed that, if anything, the situation inside the Getty was even worse than Ferri and Conforti had feared. The documents appeared to show that the museum was aware as early as 1985 that three of its principal suppliers—Hecht, Medici, and Symes—were selling objects that had almost certainly been looted, yet the Getty did nothing about it. There was one note from Hecht, in his handwriting, beginning “Dear Marion,” which read: “Yesterday my friend called me and said that since the carabinieri were looking for the pelike with the arms of Achilles he abandoned negotiations. So I will not have it. Perhaps others may acquire it. Sorry.” Then there was a memo written by John Walsh, relating to a meeting held in September 1987 and attended by Harold Williams, then chief executive of the museum, and Marion True, which was headed, “ANTIQUITIES ETHICS.” Walsh said it was a note of a meeting to consider ethical questions and only considered the problem hypothetically. Nonetheless, his memo contained the lines:HW: we are saying we won’t look into the provenance{we know it’s stolen {Symes a fence

  Whether this is as bad as it looks is hard to say, but in any case it paled in comparison to a third document, a long, tightly spaced three-page memo marked “Confidential” and written in October 1985 by antiquities curator Arthur Houghton and addressed to the Getty’s deputy director, Deborah Gribbon. Houghton had been asked to comment on an article Cornelius Vermeule had prepared on three objects in the museum that had been acquired from Maurice Tempelsman—a statue of Apollo, a ceremonial table with griffins, and a votive basin.ah Houghton wasn’t too impressed with Vermeule’s article, which considered whether the three objects had been made or assembled as a cohesive group. As Houghton saw it, this question could only be settled, not on grounds of connoisseurship but by going back through the chain of individuals who had possessed it. This he had done. His third paragraph read:At the beginning of this month I had a chance to discuss the matter with the dealer who had bought [the] three objects from the excavators. This individual, Giacomo Medici, had sold one (the lekanis [the votive bath]) to a second dealer, Robert Hecht, and the griffins and Apollo to a third, Robin Symes. Hecht later sold the lekanis to Symes, who then passed on the three sculptures as a group to Maurice Tempelsman, from whom we bought them. Medici informed me that he had acquired the lekanis and Apollo in 1976 or 1977, and that both had been found at the same location, a tomb which included a number of vases by the Darius Painter, at a site “not far from Taranto.” Hecht said the site was Orta Nova, which lies to the northwest of Taranto not far from the Adriatic, and which has produced many fine late fourth century Italiota vases. Medici also said that the Apollo came from the same site, but was found in the ruins of a villa some 150 or 200 meters [490–650 feet] distant from the tomb whence the lekanis and griffins came.... I have passed on the substance of my findings to Cornelius without naming the individuals involved.

  Ironically, less than a year later
, Houghton resigned from the museum because he thought it was burying its head in the sand as far as illicit antiquities were concerned, not properly addressing the problems. It was Houghton who had been the person at the Getty who discovered that the Lebanese export licenses for the Sevso silver were forged. He seems to have suffered a change of heart around this time and was unable to stomach what was happening in the antiquities underworld. His resignation letter, which we have seen but were not allowed to copy, was strongly worded.

  The documents leaked to Felch and Frammolino also showed that the Getty’s questionable acquisitions may have been even more extensive than Ferri knew. An internal review of the documentation in connection with its holdings established that as many as half of the museum’s antiquities masterpieces are of dubious origin. One case cited concerned a gold Greek funerary wreath. An Interpol cable had been turned up in the Getty files indicating that the wreath had been looted and another in which True expressed misgivings when it was first offered to the museum in 1992. During a trip to Switzerland that year, however, True arranged to view the wreath and meet its owner. For some reason, she determined that the man she did meet was an “impostor” and the prospective deal was canceled. “I am afraid that in our case it is something that is too dangerous for us to be involved with,” True wrote in June 1992, to Christoph Leon, the Basel dealer who was acting as an intermediary.

  Six months later, she appeared to change her mind. She asked to borrow the wreath from Leon for study, then won approval from the Getty board to buy it for $1.15 million in 1993. In 1998, Interpol sent a query to the FBI, asking the agency to interview True about her relationship with Leon, among other things. Leon declined to comment beyond confirming that he was the intermediary.